Take Me to Bed: A Collection of Naughty Bedtime Stories

by Michelle Windsor

  The doctor came in, making Matteo stand back while he examined me. Matteo refused to leave the room, and the doctor didn't argue with him. I had a feeling he'd already had that argument many times. When he finished, a nurse helped me settle a little, then once again, I was alone with Matteo. He never took his eyes off me the entire time, and as soon as he could, he was right back beside me, holding my hand and stroking my cheek.

  "Raoul?" I asked fearfully.

  "Dead," Mark stated, walking in. "For real this time. I put the bullet between his eyes myself."

  I shuddered and Matteo leaned down, stroking my head. "It's all right, Evie. He can't hurt you again. Baby, I'm so sorry. I failed you badly."

  "You didn't," I insisted. "We all thought he was dead. None of us knew. I had no idea what he looked like until he told me his name. I thought he was one of the workers. He seemed so nice," I explained. "He told me about his wife and their life." I shook my head. "I believed him."

  "That was how he lured all his victims in. He was the consummate actor. He'd get women, children, entire families to trust him, then before they knew what was happening, their lives were gone. They were sold as slaves or worse. He murdered the real Tom and assumed his identity. He was a new crewmember so even his co-workers didn't know him. He planned it all very well." Matteo shook his head. "Raoul was the worst excuse for a human being I ever had to deal with, and his death only benefits the world."

  He leaned closer, his voice low. "I hate that he touched you. Hurt you. Threatened you. I loathe the fact you heard all those vile things he said he was going to do to you."

  "I was so scared," I admitted, my voice shaking as the memories swirled in my head.

  "You were so brave," Mark spoke up. "You did exactly what I hoped you would do. You bought us enough time to get to you."

  "How did you get in?"

  Mark laughed. "Raoul thought he was so smart, but Matteo is always one step ahead. There was one override code only we had to get in no matter what. We were pulling up with reinforcements when your car shot down the driveway, and you jumped out and started to run. Raoul began shooting wildly at you and us." He looked upset. "A stray bullet got your shoulder."

  "And you got him," I said quietly.

  "Yes. Four times. Added to Matteo's six, I'm certain he stayed down this time."

  I looked at Matteo. "You shot him six times?"

  "He hurt you. If I could have, I would have resuscitated him and done it again. I wanted him so bullet-ridden there was no doubt this time."

  I had no reply for that.

  Mark cleared his throat. "I'll leave you two alone. There are guards outside, so I'm going to go home and get some sleep. I know you're in good hands."

  Matteo stood and shook his hand. Mark came to the bed and crouched down. "I'm glad you're awake, Evie. He isn't right without you anymore, so get better and go back where you belong. Beside him—okay?"

  "Okay," I whispered, my voice thick.

  He left, and Matteo returned to the bed. He held my hand, stroking the bruised skin. He was quiet for a few moments, then began to speak.

  "I didn't know if I could get to you. I didn't know what I would find when I arrived. All I knew, the one thing I was certain of, was if you were gone, my life would cease to exist." He raised his eyes, and I was shocked at the tears that filled them. "You are my life, Evie. My everything. I'm done protecting the world. From this day forward, I will spend my life protecting you. Our family." A tear rolled down his face. "I will never risk you again. I cannot be without you."

  His head dropped, and his shoulders began to shake as he crumbled. I edged over, pulling on his arm, and he crawled onto the bed beside me, letting him be vulnerable. I held him as best I could with the wires and bandages, marveling that this man was mine. That there was so much goodness under the darkness I had first seen. That he was capable of such love.

  I pressed a kiss to his head and let my own tears flow. We could weep tonight and share our demons.

  I vowed tomorrow was a new day—one without fear.

  One we could face together.

  Epilogue

  Evie

  Laughter and high-pitched giggles floated up from the beach, the sound making me smile. I walked to the edge of the deck, peering down at the open expanse. Matteo was tossing Simone in the air, with our twins, Anthony and Leo, clinging to Vince's legs as he crab-walked toward the water. Sonya came up beside me, her laughter quiet but happy.

  "Look at them."

  "I know." I sighed, contented. "They love having you here."

  She slipped her arm around my shoulders and squeezed me affectionately. "We love it here too."

  I watched my husband and daughter play in the sand. His head was bent over hers, the color of their hair so similar you couldn't tell where his ended and hers began. She was born here on this private island far off the grid, safe and secure. Born in the sun and warmth of the place that restored both Matteo and me. She brought the joy back into our world.

  Sonya walked down the steps to the beach, and I sat down with a weary sigh. I felt tired today.

  My thoughts drifted to the past.

  We never returned to the house. When I left the hospital a week after I woke up, we boarded a private plane that took us thousands of miles away from the blood and pain of Matteo's past life. For weeks, we strolled the beach, visited islands, sat in the sun, and healed. When Matteo found this group of islands, he knew we'd found our home. Large, private, and sprawling, it was still easy access to larger areas by boat and helicopter. There were other people like us—those looking for a fresh start. No questions were asked, and we were welcomed graciously.

  We settled into the villa just before Simone was born. I had never witnessed joy the way I did the day she arrived. Matteo changed overnight. His smile was constant, his happiness contagious. Soon the visitors started, and they became permanent residents. Vince and Sonya first, then Geo and Lila, and finally Alex and Lara. We all had our own villas and space—even our own lives, but the main beach was our shared playground. Mark visited on occasion, and I always missed him when he left.

  Geo stayed busy helping many people in the little areas with medical issues, opening a small clinic on the main island. Lila helped him out there. Lara taught the younger children, and Alex and Vince ran a chartered boat company. Sonya was still best in the safety of home and continued to work on the monies the foundation issued. I helped her on occasion, but Matteo and my three children kept me occupied most of the time.

  After six years, Matteo proved to be true to his word. He was the fiercest of protectors, the most loving father, and the sexiest husband I could ask for. His eyes were clear and bright these days, the torment of his earlier life fading away with the years. He had his moments, but the sun and water always seem to wash them away.

  And me. He said I was the brightest sunbeam in his life.

  I startled as Matteo sat on the edge of my lounger, interrupting my musings. He smiled, the ends of his hair tinted gold from the sun, his skin darker than when I first met him. His brown eyes were warm as he leaned forward, pressing a lingering kiss to my mouth.

  "Hello, my wife."

  I smiled, running my hand along his short beard. He was barely recognizable from the man in the warehouse so many years ago.

  "Hello, husband."

  "You looked very contemplative." He ran his hand over my rounded stomach. "Our girl causing you some discomfort?"

  I covered his hand with mine. "No, I was just thinking."

  "About?"

  "When we got here."

  He leaned forward, giving me another kiss. "Only good thoughts now, Evie. Those days are long past. We're all together and safe. Nothing is going to change that."

  "Oh, I know." I hastened to assure him. "I was simply thinking how wonderful it is to have our whole family here."

  "Soon, there will be one more."

  I smiled. "Yes. Another daughter for you to spoil."

  He grinned.
"Simone is so excited about going to school next month. I'll miss her here every day. She has grown so fast. So have the boys."

  I chuckled. "You're going to take her and Lara in the boat every day, Matteo, and pick her up. She'll only be gone a few hours. It will be good for her to have other children to play with."

  "I know. I don't have to like it, though. She's my best little buddy." He shot me a teasing smirk. "We'll just have to keep having new ones so I don't get too lonely."

  I shook my head in resignation. "Whatever you say."

  He stood, lifting me in his arms. He kissed me, the caress long, lingering, and filled with promise. "I thought you'd see it my way. I think we should go practice a little. Sonya and Vince are taking the kids out on the boat and the house is empty."

  I smiled at him, cupping his cheek.

  "Okay, Boss."

  He threw back his head in laughter and strode into the house, his mouth hovering over mine.

  "That's right, Evie, I'm the Boss." He winked. "As long as you say it's okay."

  I joined in his laughter.

  We both knew there would only ever be one, true Boss.

  And he was mine.

  Also by Melanie Moreland

  Vested Interest Series

  BAM - The Beginning (Prequel)

  Bentley (Vested Interest #1)

  Aiden (Vested Interest #2)

  Maddox (Vested Interest #3)

  Reid (Vested Interest #4)

  Van (Vested Interest #5)

  Halton (Vested Interest #6)

  Sandy (Vested Interest #7)

  Insta-Spark Collection

  It Started with a Kiss

  Christmas Sugar

  An Instant Connection

  An Unexpected Gift

  The Contract Series

  The Contract (The Contract #1)

  The Baby Clause (The Contract #2)

  The Amendment (The Contract #3)

  Standalones

  Into the Storm

  Beneath the Scars

  Over the Fence

  The Summer of Us

  My Image of You (Random House/Loveswept)

  Personal Delivery

  Ainsley Booth

  Billionaire Secrets

  Personal Delivery is the first book in a sexy new rom com series!

  Reading List

  Personal Delivery - Jake & Jana

  Personal Escort - Toby & Cara

  Personal Disaster - Marcus & Poppy

  * * *

  www.ainsleybooth.com

  1

  Jana

  Eight days after Thanksgiving

  I now recognize the sound of his truck turning off in front of my building.

  Not only do I recognize it, but my heartbeat picks up and I get flushed when I hear the low growl cutting out, followed by the clank of metal as he pulls up the back door to grab my package…

  Grab my package?

  Does that sound dirty, or is it just me?

  I scramble off the couch and pace into the kitchen. This is a good place to be when he knocks—it’s a decent distance from the door, so it’ll take me enough time to get there that he won’t know I know he’s already here.

  He won’t even be thinking about that, I tell myself.

  It doesn’t matter.

  I know that I’m thinking about it.

  I’m all hot and bothered for the new delivery guy, and that’s…intense. I mean, it’ll all be completely in my head, because he’s hot and just doing his job. And I’m average and not one to behave inappropriately toward someone while they’re working.

  This is not going to be like a bad porno where the lady of the house invites the pizza guy and all of a sudden he’s banging her on the counter.

  But that’s how it’ll go down in my head after he leaves.

  I’m totally going to use the “personal massager” that arrived yesterday—package number eleven—and do unspeakable things as I fantasize about the delivery guy who has visited my house almost a dozen times in the last two weeks.

  I don’t even know his name.

  He has a name tag—Dane—but last week, before Thanksgiving, I opened my big mouth and asked him if that was his real name.

  He gave me a funny look and admitted it wasn’t, but he didn’t elaborate and that was already further out of my comfort zone than I ever wanted to go.

  But Not Dane was on my mind when I headed to Philly for our annual Not Family Thanksgiving, and after drinking half a bottle of red wine, I told my friends all about him.

  So it’s really my own fault that he’s at the front door of my building, punching in the entry code he’s now memorized.

  2

  Jana

  Thanksgiving, Eight Days Earlier

  For the third year in a row, my besties and I have decided to skip spending a small fortune on flying home and spending an awkward few days with family members we don’t always like.

  We’re going to have to do that in another month anyway.

  So Nina’s driven down from New York, and I took the train up from Baltimore, and we’re camped out in Daisy’s living room with a bowl of taco dip and a football game on the television.

  We’re mostly watching because of the butts, and we’re placing bets on which of them have donkey dicks.

  Nina’s cheering for the Vikings. One in particular, who we agree is definitely packing something good, and she gets a goofy look on her face every time the camera pans past his crotch.

  Clearly the cameraman thinks he’s hung, too.

  “God,” she sighs. “I’d be his Freya in a heartbeat.”

  “He’s not really a Viking,” I point out.

  Nina shrugs. “And I really wouldn’t be protesting if he threw me over his shoulder and carried me off to his pile of furs to ravish me.”

  “Oh my God.”

  “Don’t judge me and my fantasies.”

  “I’m not. I’m really not. I’ve got dirty fantasies of my own, so I can hardly be pointing fingers.”

  Daisy bursts into the living room from the kitchen, where she was doing something to the turkey. “Am I missing good gossip?”

  “No!” I shout as Nina nods.

  “She lies. Tell us your fantasies, Jana.” Nina leans over and tops up my wine.

  “They’re private,” I mumble. The last thing I need is more alcohol. “Daisy, can we help you in the kitchen?”

  She shakes her head. “Turkey’s basted for the last time, and it’ll be done in thirty minutes. Simon’s mashing the potatoes. We’re good to go.”

  She joins me on the couch and scoops up some taco dip.

  I ignore the expectant look on her face and try to change the subject back to Nina. “How’s the new job?”

  She wrinkles her nose. “Probably not going to last very long. I miss Washington.”

  “You hated D.C.”

  “Turns out I hate New York more. Maybe I need to find some hunky farmer to marry and make babies with. Leave the marketing world behind me.”

  I bite my tongue, because Nina will do whatever she wants.

  “How’s the new kitten?”

  I beam. “Adorable. She’s fit in really well with Trick and Jared. Larken is taking a while to warm to her, but the cat sitter texted me a picture of them sharing the cat condo earlier.” I pull out my phone and show her that picture, and a few others.

  My cats are the cutest things ever.

  This new kitten is a foster kitty. She’s just with us until we find her a forever home, and that’s okay.

  “And how’s work?”

  Work is not going well at all, but I don’t want to talk about it. “It’s fine. Oh, I’ll be in New York to meet with the creative team in a couple of weeks. We should have dinner.”

  I work for a major greeting card company. I started as an assistant right out of college, and won an internal competition to become an illustrator two years later. Then one of my design series really took off, and thanks to having a decent agent who negotiate
d that extended related work also be done by me, I’ve now got a couple of product lines. Inspirational journals, coffee mugs.

  Tote bags. People love my tote bags.

  And I love my job. But sometimes it’s really hard to come up with thirty unique and amazing sentiments for a new card line. Especially when you’re distracted by the new delivery driver who’s been assigned to your route, and now most of your creative energy is being diverted to X-rated fantasies.

  “It is a plan. And we can do some shopping, too.”

  “I’ve got all my Christmas presents taken care of. You’re getting a muzzle, for example.”

  She grins. “Excellent. I read a DIY sex thing on the internet, how to turn that into a ball gag.”

  “Oh my God.”

  “Just kidding. But I did start a FetLife account.”

  My eyes bug out of my head.

  “What? New York is rough for dating. I miss Washington.”

  “No you don’t.”

  She sighs. “No, I don’t.” She purses her lips together. “Dare I ask about your dating life?”

  I wrinkle my nose. “Don’t. It’s pitiful.”

  That might be because I haven’t checked any of the online profiles she set up for me last summer. Like, ever. It’s not that I don’t want to date. It’s just that I have standards. Reasonable ones, in my opinion.

  Gainfully employed.

  Tall.

  Funny.

  Well hung.

  Enthusiastic about going down on me, but not creepy about it.